


Fic War Fills

by htbthomas



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Grimm (TV), Man of Steel (2013), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Babies, Bittersweet, Challenge: Fic War, Ficlet Collection, First Meetings, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets written for dea-goes-a-tumbln's fic war on Tumblr!</p><p>Contains:</p><p>*Lost and Foundling (Grimm, Nick, Juliette, 472 words)</p><p>*First Day (Arrow, Laurel, 858 words)</p><p>*The Home Front (The Amazing Spider-Man 2012, Aunt May, 355 words)</p><p>*Table Talk (The Amazing Spider-Man 2012, Gwen & MJ, 816 words)</p><p>*Mother’s Wisdom (Man of Steel, Martha, Clark, 507 words)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost and Foundling (Grimm)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dea-goes-a-tumbln asked you: GRIMM - someone leaves a baby wesen on Nick’s doorstep. How does he handle that? [Hint: probably not well.] Who does he turn to for help? BABY WESEEEEENN!
> 
> Note: Let’s just assume that this takes place after the events of the S2 finale are resolved.

Nick walks into the kitchen, as lost as he’s ever felt before. The tiny infant in his arms makes a small mewling sound, and Juliette turns from the stove.

“Nick?” Her mouth drops open. “Whose baby is this?” she asks, her voice rising with happy surprise. She wipes her hands on a dishtowel and peels back the soft blanket from the infant’s face. “So cute…”

“I don’t know.” He doesn’t even know if he’s holding the baby correctly. How does one _hold_ a Wesen baby? Not that he knows that for sure — but when a mysterious baby shows up in a basket on the doorstep of a Grimm’s house… “There was a note.” 

Her smile turns to a concerned frown and she blinks up at him. “Someone… left a baby… here?”

The baby suddenly shifts in his arms, so as he tries to readjust, he can only say helplessly, “The note… it’s in my fingers…”

She takes it quickly and reads, the frown on her face deepening. “ _This is my Hunter, please help her find a good home._ ” She sets the note down on the counter. “Why would someone leave a baby at our house? Why not at the hospital? Or with the police?”

“I am the police…” The baby starts the fuss, and he bounces the little girl in his arms the way he’s seen others do. It isn’t helping.

Juliette holds out her arms. “Let me.” Juliette places Hunter over her shoulder and rocks her back and forth — she settles, just a little. “I know you’re the police, but…” Juliette’s eyes go round as she realizes. “Is she Wesen?”

He folds his arms and sighs. “I assume so. Why else would someone leave her here?”

Juliette is suddenly fascinated again, turning the baby in her arms to gaze at her features again. “She seems just like an ordinary baby to me. What kind of Wesen is she?”

“I wish I knew. She looks completely human to me, too. Maybe her species doesn’t Woge until later? I don’t know much about the life cycle of various species.”

“Well, we can’t just take her into child protective services unless we know.” Juliette lightly caresses Hunter’s scalp, and she coos. 

“I was thinking the same thing.” He rubs a hand through his hair. He’s so used to springing into action now — he can take out a gang of Hundjagers, but a foundling Wesen baby is rendering him helpless. “It’s too dangerous. What if she is adopted by a human family?”

“Well,” she says, going over to turn off the burner on the stove before the pasta boils over. “I think we have to find out what she is, first.  But how?”

Both Nick’s and Juliette’s eyes open wide, as they come to the same conclusion. “Rosalee!”


	2. First Day (Arrow)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notababoonbrandishingastick asked you: Laurel’s first day back at work in the new CNRI.
> 
> Note: Since I read recently that Laurel is not returning to CNRI next season, I’m taking a slightly different tack.

Laurel sets her briefcase beside her new desk. It’s much nicer than the old one, larger and more modern. Even the desk chair looks more comfortable. She sits, turning back and forth for a moment. She knows it should feel better to sit in such a nice chair, but she misses her old hard chair, her battered desk, paid for by donations and creative funding. She even has her own office, something with four walls and a door, not just a few flimsy dividers between the rows of desks. But she misses smiling over at Joanna after a breakthrough in their case.

She should feel lucky—she has a job when so many of her former co-workers haven’t found anything yet. Joanna is still looking, though Laurel is hoping that she can find her something here if it works out.

The new law office isn’t in The Glades, but it’s near the border. She can still drive in when she needs to. The rebuilding may be happening slowly in the part of The Glades recovering from Merlyn’s attack, but it is happening. And there are still people in need of her help.

Though now she has mostly paying clients, the partners have told her she can spend a portion of her time doing pro-bono work. But she wants to do more than that, to spend one hundred percent of her time helping people who have nowhere else to turn.

“Ms. Lance?” a voice asks from the doorway.

Laurel turns, it’s her new assistant, Megan, she thinks? They met when she first came in. “It’s Laurel, Megan, just Laurel.”

“Okay, Laurel.” Megan smiles. Good, she got it right. I have a couple of files—cases for you to start with as second chair?”

“Just put them down there, I’ll look through them as soon as I get settled in.”

“Sure.” Megan leaves immediately. It is going to be weird not doing all her own legwork—though she *had* had an assistant briefly during Thea’s community service stint.

Laurel lifts her briefcase from the floor, sets it on the desk and opens it.  Just a few items to make the office feel like hers. A mug with the CNRI logo, a few picture frames. The first of Oliver, then the one of Sara, Laurel and their dad. Finally—her hand twitches in reaching for it, and there’s a stab of pain in her heart—a photo of Tommy.

She sets it in the center of the three frames, and his brilliant white smile shines back at her. She closes her eyes, trying to block out the images of the building collapsing around him, the one that should have fallen around her, but it’s impossible. She wonders if she’ll ever be able to see a photo of Tommy, or even think of him, without seeing that image wash over her mental vision.

She forces her eyes open, and reaches a hand gently toward the image. Sliding a finger slowly down the glass, she murmurs, “I won’t let your death be in vain.”

The sound of voices in quiet conversation as they come near her office brings her out of her reverie. “Did you hear Laurel Lance is working here now?”

“I guess she has to support Oliver Queen now that his company is going under.”

They hush suddenly before anyone crosses the opening. Then footsteps go in the other direction.

She shakes her head, closing the latches on her briefcase, and stowing it back on the floor. So she doesn’t know who was talking about her. Does it matter? She shrugs it off. None of it is true, anyway. She’s been dealing with gossips like that for years now. She’ll just have to show them, like always, that she’s more than Oliver Queen’s arm candy, or the daughter of a cop.

She pulls over the files and starts to flip through them. A bankruptcy case, embezzlement, a non-amicable divorce… ah, a manslaughter case. She decides to start with that.

The more she reads, though, the more she becomes convinced that the client is actually the guilty party, not an innocent accused of the crime.  She sighs and tries the embezzlement case next. But the guy is clearly throwing money at her new firm to see if there’s anyway he can reduce his sentence. Maybe the divorce? No, of course, they’re representing the woman who wants to trade in her childhood sweetheart for a newer model.

The bankruptcy case looks promising… for about five minutes. The company had been using fronts in The Glades to launder money, and with the destruction, their business is ruined.

She closes the file. Is this what she has to look forward to now? Or are they purposely giving her all the terrible cases to see what she’s made of?

The phone rings. She watches the blinking red light go off and on for a few seconds.

She doesn’t answer it. Instead, she picks up her briefcase, and walks calmly out of the office. They can find someone else to keep sleazeballs out of jail.

She’s more interested in putting them in.


	3. The Home Front (The Amazing Spider-Man)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> argentum-ls asked you: May Parker, he must never know that she’s his biggest fan

May seals the letter and places the stamp on the outside, just so.  She doesn’t place it in the stack of bills to be sent, instead, she places it in her purse to drop in the mailbox on the corner during her walk later.

Some might think that a letter is old-fashioned—why not just send an email?

It’s for the same reason that she always hand-writes them: it’s more personal, and harder to simply delete with the click of a button. Plus, every once in a while, one of the papers actually publishes her letters to the editor.

She’s worked up a sort of rotation—one per week to a different periodical in Queens and New York City. That way she isn’t written off as some sort of Spider-Man loving lunatic.

May moves to the kitchen to make Peter’s dinner, filling a pot with water and setting it on the stove.  She’s not sure if he’ll be home or not, but it doesn’t really matter, she always makes extra to store in a plastic container.  Even if he is home, often he’ll eat a fourth meal late at night.  It’s definitely not just a teenager’s bottomless pit of a stomach. Whatever has happened to him to give him these amazing powers has also made him ravenous.

He doesn’t know that she does this for him. He doesn’t even know that she knows about his superhero lifestyle. She’s tried hard not to drop hints or ask him direct questions about it. He has so much else to deal with—keeping up his grades, hanging with friends, beating up muggers, avoiding the police—worrying over his aunt is the last thing she wants for him.

The pot on the stove comes to a boil, and she switches off the heat with a dish towel.  When she sets it down, she notices that yet another white cloth is tinted bluish-red. She sighs.  Maybe if she told him, he’d let _her_ do the laundry.

May shrugs. Perhaps it’s time to switch over all the towels and sheets in the house to dark colors.


	4. Table Talk (The Amazing Spider-Man)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damalur asked you: amazing spider-man, gwen and mj hijinks or angst!
> 
> Note: So this is more like fluffy friendship meet-cute? Hopefully that’s okay. :) And I’m not sure which version of MJ that TASM 2 is going to go with, so I decided on a version that draws from the early comics.

Gwen picks at her food, wishing she had brought some homework with her. She could go back for it, she supposes, but then half of the lunch break is gone. She reaches for a carrot stick and crunches on it with distinct indifference.

It’s one thing when she _knows_ Peter is gone from school. She can plan her lunch break accordingly.  But when he suddenly stiffens in the middle of the hallway just as they’re heading for the quad… Today, he just gave her a peck on the cheek and murmured, “Be right back,” before disappearing.

So how long is she going to wait this time? Five minutes? Ten? Until after school gets out? Will he show up for a bedtime chat and make-out session?

Gwen sighs. She puts her hands around her sandwich keeper to pack it away.

“Can I sit here?”

Gwen looks up. It’s that neighbor of Peter’s, right? They don’t share any classes, and they’ve never actually talked to each other. She’s only seen her in the hallways, in the middle of a crowd of admirers, mostly male.

But it’s better than sitting alone. “Um, sure.”

The girl smiles and sits with a bounce. “It’s Gwen, isn’t it?” Whipping her hand out to shake, she says. “I’m MJ. I live in Peter’s neighborhood.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Gwen says, smiling back.

“Oh, he’s talked to you about me?” She unrolls a paper bag, pulls out a peanut butter on white and an apple. “It’s not like we’re that close.”

“Close enough. You know Peter, he’s so shy, you talk to him more than once and you’re one of his best friends.”

MJ throws her head back and laughs, her red hair swinging behind her. It’s not a laugh of derision, but a laugh of understanding. Gwen hadn’t realized that she had such a sunny disposition—no wonder she’s always surrounded by guys. So why is has she ditched the entourage today to come sit with the science nerd?

“You totally get him.” MJ bites into her apple. “He needed that.”

All Gwen can do is nod as she gets her sandwich back out. Peter needs people who understand and support him. He is far too much of a loner sometimes.

“So, is he off…” She whooshes her hand through the air. “…helping people?”

Gwen nearly chokes on her sandwich in shock. “What?”

MJ pats her on the back. “Easy there, kitten. You okay?”

Gwen swallows. “Yes. What do you mean—helping?”

MJ shrugs and tilts her head to the side. “Oh, you know, he’s like a science genius or something, right?”

Gwen relaxes. She’s going to have to develop a much better poker face. “Yes. I’ve got some chemistry tutoring myself after school today.” There, she didn’t even have to lie.

“That’s so cool.” MJ sighs. “I just barely coast by with a passing grade in Basic Biology.”

“I could… help, if you want?” It would be nice to spend some time with someone that wasn’t her brothers, her fellow interns, or her empty bedroom.

“Like tutoring?” She waves her hands in dismissal. “Nah, it’s okay. My parents aren’t exactly rollin’ in it. You’ve seen our neighborhood, right?”

Gwen’s face heats. She knows she has it good, living in a nice apartment in the middle of the city. “Sorry, didn’t mean to—”

MJ nudges her with a fist. “No worries! Studying cuts into party time, anyway.”

Gwen has a feeling there’s more to the story, but she lets it go. Suddenly MJ focuses over Gwen’s shoulder. Her face breaks into a big smile and she bounces up from the bench. “Tiger!”

 _Tiger_? She turns to see Peter walking toward them, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“You two know each other?” he asks with surprise after giving Gwen a small kiss.

“We do now!” MJ exclaims. “She’s so sweet. Why did I have to come introduce myself?”

Peter rubs at his disheveled hair—probably fresh out of the mask—and stutters, “I, um, well, we—”

MJ gives him a wink. “Just messin’ with ya. You should bring her by sometime, we can hang out.”

“S-sure.”

The bell rings then, and Gwen is glad she managed to get some of her lunch eaten. MJ gives her a quick hug. “Or I’ll come over there,” she says over Gwen’s shoulder to Peter. “When I see that you’re home. I have a pretty good view of your bedroom window from mine, you know.” She pulls away and waggles her eyebrows at both of them before walking away.

Gwen and Peter go still for a moment before turning to look at each other. Peter starts, “Did she just…”

“…imply what I thought?” Gwen’s eyebrows draw down and she sets her jaw.  “Oh no, she is not going to leave that there.” She’s halfway into a run when she calls out, “MJ!”


	5. Mother's Wisdom (Man of Steel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> xenokattz asked you: The Kents, MAN OF STEEL: Clark had always been a good child but since the revelation about his origins, he became painfully obedient.

Martha passes over the plate, fresh from scrubbing in the sink full of soapy water. Clark takes it gingerly, rinses it, and then gives it a careful rubdown with the dishtowel. With exaggerated care, he places it in the dishrack and waits for another.

She watches all of this out of the corner of her eye while she works on a particularly stubborn bit of burned-on dough. He simply waits eyes out the window toward the cornfield, hands folded in front of him, almost like some sort of science-fiction automaton.

“You don’t have to do it that way, Clark,” she tells him gently.

He doesn’t look at her when he answers. “I know, Ma, but I want to.”

She’s pretty sure it’s more than that. “It would make the job quicker…” She hands him a baking pan to rinse and dry.

His eyes snap to hers, abashed. “Did _you_  want me to? I’m sorry.” He rinses the pan at super-speed, and focuses on it with an intense stare to dry it. As she watches, the water droplets shrink and disappear. Then he blows on it lightly, so that the super-heated metal won’t melt the plastic-coated countertop.

Once he’s placed it in the drawer below the oven, he reaches for the dishes drying on the rack. She stops him with a gentle touch. “I didn’t necessarily want that, Clark.”

He narrows his eyes in confusion and replaces the dish he had taken. “Then what is it you wanted?”

“I just want you to know that you can _choose_.”

He frowns. “Pa says I need to make the things a normal person would do my…” He searches for the word. “…habit. So I don’t accidentally show my powers in front of people.”

“He’s just being protective.” She understands it, she feels it strongly herself, but there are times when she wishes Jonathan would go about it a different way. “But sometimes you might have to use them when it will do some good.” She ruffles his wavy locks with a gloved hand. “And don’t ever imply you’re not ‘normal.’ What is normal? Normal is relative.”

He grins up at her. “Okay, human, then.”

Her heart sinks for him, for the thoughts he must have every day, for the choices he has to make. She slips off her gloves and puts her arms around his shoulders. He puts his arms around her waist. He’s growing fast; soon she’ll be the one looking up at him. “Oh, Clark, you may be alien, but you’re more ‘human’ than most folks I know.”

They stand there for a moment, holding each other. Then he backs away and holds out his hand for another dish. “So is making the dishwashing faster going to ‘do some good?’” He grins at her coyly, the little scamp.

Martha laughs. “Well…” She glances over at the baking rack, where a couple dozen chocolate chip cookies are cooling. “The faster we finish, the faster we can eat.”

Luckily he doesn’t devour the cookies as quickly as they finish the washing.


End file.
